


In Death That I May Live...

by Irishrose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-12-05
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irishrose/pseuds/Irishrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge Fic for PearlTwo<br/>Genre/tone: humor/romance/mild angst <br/>Challenge Specifics: 3 Things she wanted included: Buffy starting out appreciating William, but ending up missing Spike; Anya/William interaction; William in a big-box bookstore a la Borders or Barnes & Noble <br/>3 Things she didn’t want in it: Anyone being mean to William (this means YOU Xander); any major character death; the Potentials (nobody needs that, least of all a transplanted Victorian poet).<br/>Spoilers: Any and all episodes are fair game. Starts off during Seeing Red (hey, watch it! That rock hurt!) and proceeds wildly AU from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  


It seemed to be an average evening of profitable sales, right up until Anya felt the sudden unmistakable pull that signaled it was time to attend to her other job. This one didn't feel like it was as much of a summons to wreak vengeance, as it felt more like a possible window for justice. Then again, the call was usually born of the same causes and it wasn't generally too difficult to get a client to go the extra mile. Not to mention, work was work and she was still on a bit of a probationary period since D’hoffran had taken her back into the vengeance fold. Nothing formal, more of a, ‘I’ll-be-monitoring-you-until-I’m-certain-you’re-up-to-full-speed,’ kind of thing.

So she quickly locked the door to the Magic Box, changed the sign to “closed”, secured the cash in the safe, and tidied her dress up a bit. Satisfied that everything was in order, she focused her power to teleport, letting the feelings of the unfortunate woman guide her path straight to… Buffy’s bathroom?

“Buffy?!”

“Anya?!”

“Oh my gosh! Buffy, what happened?” Anya queried as she scurried around Buffy’s bathroom, pulling out the first aid supplies and a clean washcloth.

Buffy, however, failed to answer her question. She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts. So Anya set about tending to Buffy’s scrapes and fetched the ice pack for her. That was when she spotted the unmistakable black leather coat. 

“So, tell me that at least Spike looks worse than you do,” Anya said as she gently applied the icepack to the worst of Buffy’s bruises. That earned her a sudden panicked look from Buffy. “I knew Spike could still be dangerous, but I must admit that I’m surprised he’d ever actually hurt *you*.”

A small sad smile crossed Buffy’s face. “Yeah, well, let’s just say that I’ve learned how to ring Pavlov’s bell. But this time he tried to ring mine.”

“I can only imagine the intensity with which you two would…” Anya trailed off as she stared into space for a few moments with a lopsided grin, only to be brought back by Buffy’s hiss of discomfort when Anya pressed a little too firmly with the icepack. “Oh, sorry! I was imagining the intensity with which the two of you would have had sex. But judging by the fact I'm here, I'm guessing this wasn't an average get together for some really great sex.” 

Again, Buffy remained silent. Until she seemed to notice that Anya was looking at her with confusion.

“What?”

“Huh?” Anya replied, “Oh, I was just thinking how focused he was. Even drunk, I'm guessing he was drunk, yes?" Buffy glanced down again, so Anya continued, "It looks like he was trying at least a little to be…I mean, I know you have great healing, but usually if a vampire's involved…” Anya stopped as she noticed Buffy looking very pained. “This is one of those occasions when I shouldn’t say anything, isn’t it?” 

“I… I usually didn’t let him… it wasn’t that kind of…” Buffy seemed to sheepishly be trying to explain the complexities of her relationship with Spike, so Anya decided that it was a good time for her to be the silent one now.

“But, sometimes,” Buffy began, “He was so. He would be so gentle. Trying to show me the man he… the man he used to be, before. The one that I could…” Silence followed that, and stretched into long moments.

“But, that could never happen. He’s *not* that man! He’s not! God, sometimes I wish Spike the Bloody Vampire just didn’t exist anymore. Then he couldn’t…” 

“Buffy!” Anya exclaimed, and began frantically shaking her head. “No! No, no, no, no, I didn’t hear you!”

“What?” Buffy asked, confusedly.

“Lalalalalalala,” Anya loudly chanted with her fingers inserted in her ears.

“Anya, what are you…” Buffy tried to ask above Anya’s screeching. She was soon silenced, when they were joined in Buffy’s bathroom by another visitor. D’Hoffran. 

Anya’s eyes went wide as saucers, but she continued her chanting.

“Really Anyanka, do you honestly expect me to fall for this charade?” Her boss asked, giving Anya a rather pointed look.

Anya’s chanting fell silent and she dropped her fingers, only to nervously begin winding them around each other.

“Please tell me you were not attempting to circumvent your duty to this woman.”

“This woman?” Buffy indignantly repeated. “Like you’re too good to remember who I am?” 

“Your station is not important, Miss Summers,” He responded. “What is important here, is that Anyanka was attempting to thwart your wish for vengeance. It is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

“I made *no* wish! And she isn’t even a vengeance demon anymore!” Buffy adamantly insisted.

“So you did not speak to Anyanka the words, ‘*I wish*,’ followed by, ‘Spike the Bloody Vampire just didn’t exist anymore’?”

“I…well, yeah, but that’s not what I,” Buffy began, only to be cut off by a hand of dismissal from D’Hoffran.

“Then the wish is confirmed as valid. Anyanka, do you intend to fulfill this wish?” He asked.

“But, Buffy didn’t…” 

“Very well then, I will complete the wish myself,” D’Hoffran interrupted, raising his hands in flourish.

“No!” Anya screamed as she desperately reached for one of his arms. “I’ll do it! I’ll…I’ll do it.”

D’Hoffran dropped his hands. After a seconds pause, he waved one hand toward Buffy and gave Anya an expectant look.

Anya’s features morphed into that of the vengeance demon. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that her very spur of the moment plan worked. “Wish granted,” She whispered.

After a second of silence, D’Hoffran gave a small sound of disapproval. “Not what I had in mind.”

“It was technically adherent to the request. Besides, a Victorian virgin momma’s boy in the 21st century? 'Never go for the kill, when you can go for the pain.' Isn’t that your motto?” Anya asked.

D’Hoffran conceded a small smile, before disappearing in a cloud of bright and excessive smoke.

"Anya, what did you do?" Buffy asked in a small trepid voice.

"Well…" 

**********

The sudden scream rent the evening air, and brought Clem running out of the crypt, to find Spike prostrate on the ground. He quickly flipped him over, and gave him a few cautious slaps to the face to rouse him. It worked.

“Ahhhhhhh!!!” 

“Ahhhhhhh!!!” 

After several seconds of this, they both trailed off into a rather uncomfortable silence. William stared at the very strange looking, well, person? Thing? Hallucination? He reached a tentative hand out and poked what he supposed was its arm, eliciting a loud giggle from it.

“Dude, you know I’m ticklish!” Clem blurted, before quickly glancing around him. “Not out here! If the guys ever found out I’m ticklish…” 

“I beg your pardon?” William asked, clearly offended. “I assure you…sir…I am not some,” William dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper, “some, mary!” He finished before quickly scanning the area to ensure no one had heard his lowly slang, as he stood up and brushed himself off.

“A what?” Clem asked with evident confusion. Well, as evident as William supposed the creature could manage anyhow. He couldn’t be entirely certain. Maybe that expression was anger. Maybe he’d insulted the being. Then again, it had insulted him first. But that exact moment was when what he’d spied, in his brief perusal of his surroundings, finally registered.

“Why are we in a cemetery?” He wondered aloud.

“Um, because you live here,” Clem replied.

“I most certainly do not!” William indignantly responded. “My home is no where near any cemeteries,” He informed the thing in a matter-of-fact tone. “Mother! Oh my, she’ll be worried beyond measure if I don’t return home at once.”

That was when his last memory returned to him, causing him to wobble a little. The street, the stable, the beautiful woman, no…she wasn’t beautiful, she’d been horrendous. A,a… a monster. His left hand quickly covered his neck, but he felt no pain, no telling wetness of a bleeding wound.

“Your mother? Man, you must’ve had more to drink than I thought. Should’ve known, what with all that talk about taking some trip across the globe. Like you’d ever leave Buffy. Come on,” Clem said, reaching out to try and grab his arm. “Let’s get you back inside and we’ll get you all tucked in bed.” 

“What? No!” William lurched away in his panic. “What, what are you? Are you one of them?” He squinted his eyes, bringing the creature into better focus. Which only increased his terror. 

“Them?” Clem parroted.

“You are! You’re a, a…vampire!” William exclaimed.

“What? Me? Now I know you’ve had too much,” Clem chuckled as he reached once again in an attempt to seize William by the arm.

“You’ll not be getting a hold of *me* a second time!” William resolved as he stepped backward several steps, keeping his eye on the demon… and proceeded to trip over a low grave marker. His footsteps faltering, he fell. He tried to twist and catch himself, but ended up crashing sideways into another headstone, his head striking it none too gently. The last thing he remembered, was the disfigured demon leaning over him, its razor sharp teeth glistening as it uttered its terrible curse at him…

“Dude, that *had* to hurt like a bitch!”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Sorry, Buffy,” Clem apologized as he hauled an unconscious William into Buffy’s house and placed him on her couch. “Usually when Spike gets like this, I just leave him at the crypt. But, then again, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen him like this? Spike gets roughed up all the time!” Buffy said, taking in the nasty gash across the right side of his forehead and the wicked looking bruise that already surrounded it.

“Yeah, sure, but he’s never had a heart beat before,” Clem pointed out. 

Buffy shared a knowing look with Anya, before tentatively reaching for the pulse point on his wrist. She had to see for herself. Until then, she would happily continue to captain her little flagship on the river deNile. As soon as she felt the weak little thumping, she drew her hand back as if burned. So Anya had indeed brought him back to life, except this wasn’t Spike. It was William. 

After a few hasty explanations about her vengeance demon status, Anya had painfully explained that Spike no longer existed. That the person that looked like Spike, was in fact William, and he would have no memory of ever being Spike. That the things that made Spike who he was, had never happened to William. 

As she tried to reconcile the Spike she knew and the bits about William that Anya had been told by Halfrek, she wondered just who this person in front of her was. Spike painted his human self as dangerous and powerful, relishing his death and the new life that Drusilla bestowed upon him. Halfrek described him to Anya as a pathetic simpleton whose own mother couldn’t get rid of him. So which one was the true William? Her ponderings were interrupted by Anya’s narration of the evening’s excitement, which was often punctuated by an excited, “No Way!” or “Holy Cow!” from Clem.

“You can do that?!” Clem exclaimed.

“Of course! It’s actually been done before, but usually by the time people get around to summoning us, they’re pretty pissed off about all the murder and mayhem and just want the vampire dead. And then there’s the women who want the best of both worlds, and ask for children or even day-walkers. But, no one’s asked for one of those in a long…”

A long low groan brought Anya’s treatise on vampire related wishes to a sudden stop as everyone looked to the source of the noise. As William failed his week attempt to sit up, Buffy quickly turned back to see a semi-lucid William looking up at her in squinty-eyed awe.

“Is this Heaven?” 

**********

The first thing he saw was the exquisite creature looking down on him. She was wreathed in gold and bright gleaming light, and she fairly put to shame every other creature he’d set eyes on. She had to be an angel. 

“Is this Heaven?” He asked aloud, knowing already that it must be; for, in life, such a radiant beauty as she would never have looked upon him with such concern. She smiled, and it brought such joy to him that he should be so favored. 

“No, and despite evidence to the contrary, it isn’t hell either,” She spoke.

“But, surely you are an angel,” He insisted.

A rather undignified snort from elsewhere in the room brought to him the awareness that there were others among them. 

“Believe me, she’s no angel. Real angels are usually much more terrifying,” Came a response from an adjoining room.

“Which isn’t to say that Buffy can’t be scary,” Clem added. William tried squinting a bit more to identify the source of the comment. “And I think that’s my cue to leave so he doesn’t wig out again. Bye guys!”

William finally succeeded in sitting up, and noted through his squinted eyes another beautiful young woman was now in the room, though not quite as lovely as the first. His first thought was that she must be a servant, for she appeared to be clothed in servant’s dress, only much shorter, showing long and lean legs with gracefully curving calves…

William quickly averted his eyes, and found them settling on yet another set of legs. They were equally unencumbered, and appeared to be very well muscled yet incredibly feminine, much like those of a prima ballerina. He automatically followed their curve as it led upward, and quickly discovered that the angel he’d marveled was clothed only in her dressing gown, leaving just enough to the imagination as to what was concealed beneath it. That thought quickly led to other deliciously lascivious thoughts. 

As the more proper side of him finally regained control of his mind, William visibly snapped out of his thoughts and brought one hand up to shield his eyes, as he felt a telling blush deepen across his face. He was beyond mortified that his kind benefactor had seen his brazen oogling of her form.

“Terribly sorry, I…I didn’t mean to…” He stuttered out. 

“Huh? Didn’t mean to what?” Buffy asked.

William tried to find words to explain his reason for apology, but failed to find one acceptable for the present company. He finally settled on a very simple explanation. “Your dress, madam.”

“What? I’m not wearing a dress,” Buffy responded with confusion.

“He’s talking about your clothes. See, back in his time, our clothes would be considered obscene. In fact, your guardian and his parents could insist you two be married now. That, or they’d send you to a convent for being a seductive temptress, and privately demand that William compensate the family for damages,” Anya supplied.

“But, he’s seen you too!” Buffy observed, her voiced tinged with what sounded to be a good measure of desperation. “So, how do I explain all of this to him? ‘Hi, my name’s Buffy, and women now days run around wearing what you probably considered underwear. Oh and by the way, it isn’t 1880 anymore, it’s 2002, and you’re here because I accidentally made a wish to a vengeance demon?’” She hissed in an overly loud whisper.

“Well, you could try talking to him now that he’s conscious and sitting about a foot away from you,” Anya offered.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Buffy agreed. “William,” Buffy soothed as she gently placed her hand around the one William was shielding his eyes with, but he quickly jerked away and brought the other hand up to take its place. “Hi! My name’s Buffy, and women…” 

“If it’s all the same madam…” Spike interrupted. 

“No, it’s not. That’s what I’m going to tell you, if you’d stop interrupting!”

William spared a momentary look of incredulity, before once again shielding his view. He wasn’t quite used to ladies being quite so forward. It was, inappropriate, unladylike, infuriating, and…. Enticing? 

“I’m sorry Miss Buffy, but I really must insist on speaking with your father,” William resolutely stated. 

“Well, he’s about four thousand miles away at the moment,” Buffy replied with impatience, one hand propped on her hip.

“Your guardian then, perhaps?”

“Ugh!” Buffy stomped her foot, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don’t have a guardian either. It’s just me, Dawn, Willow, and I think maybe Tara again. No guardians, no chaperones, no corsets…well, actually Tara has one or two…but definitely no men in charge in this house!”

"All women you say?" William queried. "Sapphists?" He shakily asked, with not just a little bit of awe and curiosity.

"Safest?" Buffy parroted? "Safest what?"

"Not safest, Buffy, Sapphists," Anya replied. "He means followers of Sappho. That's what they called lesbiens."

"What?!" She screeched, turning back to William. "No," she started laughing, "Ok, maybe some of us, but the rest of us are definitely of the male loving variety."

A moment of clarity finally found it’s way to him. “Oh! Oh my, of course! Of course, please pardon my misunderstanding. I had no idea this was an Introduction House.”

“A what house?”

“A high-end brothel,” Anya clarified. “You should be quite flattered!” 

“I’m supposed to be flattered he thinks I’m a prostitute?” Buffy incredulously asked Anya, then turned back around to face William. “I am *not* a prostitute, buster!” She said, waving an angry finger at him.

“No? Well then, I must say I’m quite relieved,” William confided, then seemed to consider the implications of his statement. “Not that I think…well, that is to say…you’re quite… I mean, I would certainly…” William floundered, as Buffy arched a well sculpted brow in amusement. 

“Hmm, I must apologize, for I fear there is no way to amend my words without further offense.”

“Now I *know* you’re not Spike!” Buffy mumbled. “Anyway, back to what I was saying…what was I saying?”

“Something about your manner of dress,” William helpfully supplied.

“Oh yeah, thanks! So, women, *all* women, dress like this now,” Buffy finished.

William considered her statement, but it sounded rather dubious to him. 

“You know what? Let’s save this conversation for the morning,” Buffy said, sounding very fatigued and frustrated. “Once we’ve all had some rest and your head isn’t actively bleeding, things will make a lot more sense. You can crash on the couch for tonight.”

“Most certainly not!” William protested. “It would be terribly inappropriate, and mother…”

“Look buster!” Buffy seethed. “I’ve had one bitch of a day. You are going to stay in this house, on that couch, and get some nice relaxing sleep!” Buffy finished, in a tone broaching no argument. After a moment during which she appeared to recompose herself, she added in the more formal tones of a practiced hostess, “Now, is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine, thank you,” William hastily replied. 

“Ok, well then… goodnight,” Buffy hesitantly bid as she made her exit.

“Well, I think that went well,” Anya cheerfully opined.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Well, I think that went well," Xander heard Anya say as he burst through the front door of Buffy's home. He'd needed an ice pack for his face, and to let Buffy know he'd run into Warren and his chums, so he'd figured he could kill two birds with one stone by heading straight there. He hadn't counted on running into Anya, however.

"Buffy," He called as he shut the door, choosing to momentarily avoid the whole Anya issue, "I found Warren. Actually, my face kind of found him…" He trailed off as he noticed Spike's coat hanging over the banister. That was also right about the time he noticed that Buffy was standing on the stairs in apparently nothing but her bath robe. He so totally didn't want to deal with this right now.

"This what you call not seeing Spike anymore?" He asked with no small trace of anger, and noticed that his question had elicited a very noticeable twitch from Buffy; but, she didn't give him any response to his question, she just turned and started to walk up the stairs. Xander also noticed at that moment, that she was moving quite differently than her usual self, slower and obviously in quite a bit of pain. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

Buffy froze in her tracks for a moment, before turning her head to glance over her shoulder at him.

"It was a demon. Caught me off guard. I took care of it," she offered quietly.

"Took care of it? Like you took care of Spike?" Xander seethed out, pointing toward Spike's black coat. 

"No, it's safe to say I killed it," Buffy replied in her quiet but firm voice. 

That was when he noticed that Buffy was staring intently into the living room. He followed her line of gaze, right into the very confused face of…Spike? Spike, in this house? After everything that had happened recently, and with Buffy and Anya both there as well? Xander's stomach started to feel nauseated, and then his rage started to take over. He made a sharp turn toward the living room with the intention to close the few steps to the couch and stake the vampire that had become the bane of his existence. Right until Buffy suddenly had a vice like grip on his arm and was pulling him toward the dining room. He made a valliant but vain attempt to free his arm, as he was dragged away. Once in the room, he stopped struggling and turned the full face of his fury to Buffy.

"What is he doing here? And Anya? Is this some sort of sick three…" He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Buffy's other hand produced the second solid crack to his face for the evening.

"First, don't you dare come into my house and start insulting me and my guests…" Buffy bit out through clench teeth. "

"Guests?! Since when is Spike a guest?!" Xander retorted.

"Second, that person in there isn't Spike," She finished.

"What, so now Spike's both a person and a guest? This is insane, Buffy. When did you…" 

"She made a wish, Xander," Anya spoke up, softly enough that it took a second for him to register what she had said. "Buffy made a wish that Spike the vampire no longer existed."

"Funny, that sure looked like Spike to me." Xander's retort was short and his anger practically dripped from his mouth.

"You didn't let me finish! You never let me finish!" Anya stamped one heel for emphasis. "Buffy made a wish that Spike the Bloody Vampire no longer existed. The person you saw in there is the man Spike was before he was turned into a vampire 122 years ago."

Now it was Xander's turn to stand in silence as he took in what everyone was saying. He finally turned back to Buffy with a look of incredulity and asked, "You wished Spike out of existence?"

"No," Buffy dropped the grip she had on Xander's arm and crossed her arms in front of herself, pulling the bathrobe a little tighter. "Yes. I don't… it's complicated." 

"Yeah, I gathered that," he replied. "So the Spike shaped guy in there is…"

"William," Buffy softly clarified.

"William." Xander looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting to find something there. Ye gods, this was going to be a long night, and he hadn't even gotten to the part about telling Buffy about Warren, much less getting that ice pack.

******************

Hearing his name, William decided this might be the opportune time to address the man who had charged in, and then started quite the heated discussion about a spike, and also seemed to involve a patron perhaps. What an odd topic of discussion, and not one he'd been able to completely follow. Then again, it certainly wasn't his business whatever business these adventuress' had with their patrons. Ah, well, "once more unto the breach," he mumbled to himself, as he slowly walked toward the gathered group. He was beginning to understand why his friends held such women in high regard. They were unlike any woman he'd ever seen.

"Pardon me, good sir," William said after cleared his throat. The gentleman turned towards him, as he spoke. Only this looked like no gentleman; rather, he looked like a laborer of some sort, who had recently been in a bit of a row judging by his face. "My name is William Pratt. I take it you are the proprietor of this establishment?" 

The man just stared at him, and apparently was floundering for words as he himself so often did. 

"Establishment?" The man asked in what seemed to be a question.

"Yes, I assume this is your introduction house? I'm afraid I seem to have been injured earlier this evening, and was brought here for assistance," William explained. "Though," he scratched his head, "I'm not entirely sure how I got from Albemarle to the rookery."

"Ok, this is officially starting to wig me out a little. I hear these words coming from his mouth, but they're making even less sense then usual." The man stated.

"Right there with you, Xander." The angel, no… Ms. Buffy, stated.

"Ah! Xander is your name? Nice to make your acquaintance Mr. Xander. Fascinating name, I take it your family is from the continent?" William asked, as he took one of Mr. Xander's out stretched hands and shook it. Getting no answer, he pressed on.

"As I told these lovely adventuresses, I really must be on my way. My mother is not well, you see, and she will be worried sick if I don't return immediately."

"Uh, huh," was the only reply he received.

"I don't suppose I could trouble you to locate a cab?" William asked.

"Cab! Ok, I know this one. Did they have cabs 122 years ago?" Xander asked, looking at Buffy.

"How they heck would I know?" Buffy asked in return.

"Oh, sure," Anya offered. "Only they were coaches and not cars. The drivers charged outrageously too, but if you could afford them you probably didn't care what they cost."

"You speak old guy?" Mr. Xander asked Ms. Anya.

"I beg your pardon?" William exclaimed at Mr. Xander's assertion. "I am no man of dizzy age, sir! I am not long out of Cambridge, I dare say."

"Anya, translation?" Ms. Buffy asked. 

"Oh, he said he isn't old and that he hasn't been out of college long," Ms. Anya supplied.

"And, the rest of it?" Mr. Xander asked.

"Rest of… oh, um, let's see… he thinks your name is weird and asked if your family comes from somewhere else in Europe, and he wants to know if you're the pimp in charge here, and he thinks he is in a sort of red light district in London, and he's wondering how he got here from his club. Oh, and he wants you to get him a ride home because his mother's sick." Ms. Anya supplied, though some of the words seemed a bit odd, William felt it to be a close approximation, and these east enders were known to have an unusual vocabulary of their own. 

"Did you say, 'pimp'?" Xander asked.

"God!" Buffy exclaimed. "What is it going to take to get it into your head that we aren't a bunch of prostitutes?"

"Technically, he called us adventuresses," Anya pointed out. "Again, you should be quite flattered. They were often very highly regarded. Um, did you ever read Sherlock Holmes?" On the blank expressions, she continued anyway, "Well, one of the characters, Irene Adler, she was based on an opera singer at the time, Lillie Langtry."

"And she was a…" Xander left the question hanging.

"Adventuress, yes," she supplied. "Although, married at the time."

"Can we get back to the whole Spike thing?" Xander asked. "Preferably before my head explodes?"

"William," Buffy corrected.

"Not helping," Xander replied. 

"So, has anyone here bothered to translate into old British guy…" Xander started.

"See here!" William interrupted.

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Xander held his hands up in surrender. "So, has anyone told William here that he's in Sunnydale, California in 2002, and his mother's long gone? Assuming Spike, here, didn't turn her into a vampire, that is?" 

"Vampire?!" William gasped. 

"You know about vampires?" Buffy asked.

"Why, yes. Well, I hope you don't think me feeble minded, but I think it was such a creature of the night that attacked me earlier. You say this creature, this 'Spike' would have gone after mother?" William asked with growing alarm. "I must leave at once."

With no further pause, William pulled the front door open and hurried from the house and down the sidewalk.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, does anyone think we should probably go after him?" Xander asked no one in particular. After a brief second to contemplate that idea, they all scrambled into the hall and out the door. They had practically fallen down the steps together, and charged down the sidewalk, only to find William staring up at the trees with a strange expression.

"William?" Buffy called, approaching him slowly. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed like the thing to do.

" _Phoenix canariensis_." 

"No, Sunnydale. Phoenix is a few hours that way," Xander responded.

William gave him a withering look. It was such a purely Spike look, that she almost had to laugh. Which made her think. Maybe it hadn't been a purely Spike look. Maybe it had always been a purely William look. Boy, this existential stuff was going to be a big pain in the…

"These trees should be thousands of miles from here, how ever did you get them to grow?" He was looking at her with that look again. Like he'd just seen a miracle of some sort.

"What? The palm trees? I don't know; came with the house. They're all over the place here."

He was looking around again. Staring at things like he was studying a bug under a microscope. Kind of went along with the squinting. Which made her wonder…

"Spi, uh, William, out of curiosity, you don't happen to wear glasses, do you?"

He looked at her again, looking a little caught off guard for a moment, and then ducked his head. He was embarrassed! 

"I do require them for certain activities. My eyes tend to become quite fatigued from time to time," He confessed. "Regrettably, it would appear they were lost during my incident earlier this evening. But I am quite certain these are _Phoenix canariensis_." He was looking back up at the palm trees again.

"Well, that would be because this is California and they grow all over the place here."

At that moment, an SUV came cruising down the quiet street, drawing William's rapt attention.

"I say… a horseless carriage?" He glanced back around to her, his face a question.

She thought about it a moment, then shrugged, "Yeah, we'll go with that."

"Fascinating!" That couldn't have sounded more like Giles if he'd tried. "Now, if you would be so kind as to hail one so that I may return to my home?" And there was that authoritative air that Giles was so good at.

"First, there will be no hailing," she pointedly glared at him, "and second, you can't go home."

"Yeah man, there *is* no home for you to go to."

Now he was looking frustrated, bordering on angry. After a few seconds of what looked like internal waffling to her, he finally spoke again.

"See here, sir. This jest has gone on long enough. I am Lord Pratt, and I will not be trifled with."

That got him a whole bunch of blank stares from everyone. Which for some reason caused him to sigh and roll his eyes at them all.

"Lord Pratt?" Xander repeated the name.

"Pratt?" Anya also repeated, and then kept mumbling it to herself. "Pratt, Pratt, Pratt, why do I know that name?"

"My young cousin is Lord Camden." She couldn't quite tell, but that almost sounded more like a question than a statement. Either way, she still wasn't sure what he was going on about.

"My uncle's only living child? The Marquess…"

"Oh my god!" Anya exclaimed, then quickly covered her mouth. "William, are you a presumptive?"

"A whative?" Xander asked.

"I am." He held his chin just a little higher. 

Anya started to giggle, which turned into laughter, which lead to great big snorting guffaws. They were contagious, and soon had both her and Xander, though curiously not William, laughing as well. She couldn't help it. The events of the entire evening had just been so crazy and overwhelming, and she wasn't quite sure what she was laughing about, but she was glad that she was. 

"You… you were… you were a member of the peerage?" Anya snorted out. "Oh god, of course you were! This is too funny, Spike was a presumptive!" She snorted some more. "Of course! Hallie was pretending to be an Underwood that season so she could run her little vengeance thing. Oh god, no wonder you were so set on her, you thought everyone else was beneath you!" Anya dissolved into laughter again. Completely missing William's not so insignificant flinch. 

But Buffy didn't. Particularly when it suddenly started looking like he was going to explode, then spun on his heal and started blindly stalking off. He didn't even seem to see where he was going. His long strides took him straight into the street, right into the path of an oncoming car. Buffy had to put on an extra burst of speed to get to him and push him out of the way, putting herself right into the spot he had been.

It was over before you could blink. She had rolled right up onto the hood of the car and bounce back off into the street as the driver slammed on his breaks. She laid there a moment, considering that this wasn't the first time she'd been hit by a car, and it really did seem to be getting any easier. Although, it wasn't getting worse either. 

"Buffy!" Xander and Anya's voices cut through her thoughts. She sat up, as the driver came running up. She glanced around to see if she had pushed William clear. He was sitting in the middle of the street, giving her that look. Huh, who knew? Turned out that the head tilt was a totally William thing, too. And suddenly, she really had to wonder just how much of Spike was really William? And if Spike was really William, then was Spike really gone?

Putting those thoughts away, she quickly reassured the driver and her friends that she was fine, and wouldn't be calling the police or the ambulance. She marched over to William and looked down. That was when Anya's words clicked in her brain, and she remembered shoving him to the ground, in roughly the same position he was now, and telling him that he was beneath her. He'd looked hurt then, and angry. But then, that was why she'd said it, to wound him. Judging by what had happened a moment ago, she'd simply ripped open an old wound instead of creating a new one. And it had been a pretty big one. Big enough to send him charging into the street and right into almost certain death. This was all sounding a little familiar, but not quite. Like some of the details were a little off. Wait a minute… 

"Oh my god…" Now it was her turn to stand there stunned, and looking down at him while she did it.

After a moment of looking at her in such hope, William looked away dejectedly. He stood up and turned to continue walking wherever the heck he thought he was going. She caught his arm, and he momentarily froze.

"William?" He wouldn't turn and look at her, but she could tell she had his attention.

"Is that what happened that night? This… night? She said you were beneath her, didn't she? And you ran out into the street and right into Drusilla."

He was trembling a little, but still hadn't turned around.  
"I will not be made sport of," He almost whispered.

Buffy decided that rather than making him turn around, she would meet him on his own terms. She walked around him until she was face to face with him, but he still wouldn't look at her.

"Is that what happened?" She asked.

He didn't look at her, but he did give her a brief nod. 

Despite the serious warning bells going off in her head, she pulled him into a firm hug, and surprisingly he let her. But, this wasn't Spike, it was William. Who apparently had been in love with a woman whose words had unknowingly gotten him killed.

Funny how history repeats itself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dial

Chapter 5

For a moment he let himself get caught up in the feeling of the petite young lady as she help him closely, her arms encircling him so gently, and he rested his head on her shoulder. He’d never had a lady hold him so closely, other than his mother of course. She felt small, and yet so firm against him. He could feel the curves of her bosom pressing against his chest with every breath, and even the faint rhythm of her heart beating. Or maybe that was his heart beating, he wasn’t quite certain, but the pulse of it was strong and seemed to reverberate through them both. Pounding, throbbing, from is head to his…oh. Oh dear. 

“Mmm, hmmm,” he cleared his throat. She didn’t seem to take the subtle hint.

“Miss…. Miss Buffy? Not that I don’t appreciate your gracious gesture, but…”

She still didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Miss Buffy, I hardly think it appropriate for us to be quite so publicly… intimate…” he finished with a whisper.

She leaned back and gave him quite an odd look. As if she were possibly… confused? After a few moments of looking at him so intently that he could feel the heat rising in his face, he desperately needed to be away from her to hide his shame and his blush. But then, her look changed. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It seemed to him to be rather full of regret. Or was that sadness? Yes, that was it, sadness. And now he was blushing for a whole other reason, as his consternation had him mentally chiding himself for insulting the lady.

“Miss Buffy, I deeply apologize for offending you. It is not that I would not wish to enjoy your convivial society, quite the opposite; but, you see, as a presumptive I feel it is my duty to…”

“No, No, it’s ok,” she said, stepping away from him, and leaving him with a sudden strange sense of loss. “You didn’t offend me. I don’t think.” And now she looked confused again. And in all probability, so did he. This young lady was quite the enigma to him. Her countenance was so open and it left him feeling… curioius. 

He’d never been very adept at engaging the gentleladies socially. Which was why he applied himself to his poetry. And yet, he found himself wanting to engage further with this angel before him. The fellows at the club often spoke quite well of these adventuress’, but his mother held them in quite low regard, and that was to say nothing of their status. He was, after all, the presumptive and he must hold himself out to be irreproachable in his standards.

“Yes, well,” He answered her, as he too stepped further away from her. “I do thank you for your assistance but I really must be getting back to mother.”

Just as she seemed to be about to speak, Mr. Xander interrupted them.

“Buffy? I know this is about a seven on the weird-o-meter, but I ran into Warren earlier,” The young man pointed towards his face. “And I think he’s pushing a nine and a half. He’s packing some major mojo, and when I called Willow to see where you were, she thought she had found something and was on the way here to show you.”

That put Miss Buffy into what appeared to be rather grave contemplation, and again he felt at a loss as to what his course of action should be. This was certainly not his concern, but he was also not one to abandon the fair ladies to the likes of ruffians. 

“Perhaps you should call the police?” He offered helpfully. “This is, after all, their purpose, is it not?”

They all turned to look at him and suddenly he felt as if he had somehow said the wrong thing yet again.

“William,” Miss Buffy put a hand on his arm briefly before appearing to remember herself and removed it. “I, um, need to go take care of something,” she smiled, but it seemed a forced nicety. One he was quite used to. “I don’t think it will take long. I need you to stay here with Xander and Anya while I do.” She looked at the referenced persons and asked them watch him. Really? Watch him? As if he were a child?

“Miss Buffy, I assure you…”

“Look, Spike!” She tersely bit out, causing him to turn in circles, searching in alarm for the creature that had cornered him earlier in the evening. His mind started racing as he recalled the encounter with the beautiful, no horrible, no… well, both beautiful an horrifying at the same time, creature. Spike, what an odd name for a creature of the night. She’d somehow enchanted him into a trance with words of understanding. She had seemed to almost see straight into his inner being and appealed to his baser needs with promises of giving him something effulgent. He’d thought for a brief moment to escape his drudgery with the woman, and then all he could remember was pain and darkness. She’d apparently stolen his purse and his spectacles before leaving him to the fate of the dark alleys London.

Suddenly, someone seized his arm and he jerked away fearing the creature had caught him again, and suddenly a cacophony of voices were shouting. Shouting at the creature? No. No, they were shouting at him. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, William! William! Stop! You’re ok!” He made out Miss Buffy’s voice. “You’re ok,” she repeated more softly. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

He looked around, lost in his thoughts and confusion. Every thought at the moment was so clouded. His fear, confusion, pain, arousal, concern, all warring inside him for dominance, and none of them seemed to be taking the lead. He looked straight at Miss Buffy, pleading with her to understand.

“I just want to go home!”

Miss Buffy looked at him with such sad resignation, he knew her answer before she gave it.

“I’m sorry, William, you can’t.”

“Why? What purpose have you with keeping me here?” His voice was beginning to sound on the verge of whinging, even to his own ears.

At that moment, two other oddly dressed ladies approached. 

“Buffy! I think we’ve found something!” The small one with red hair said, seeming a bit out of breath. “We were able to decipher pretty much everything except these,” she said, holding out parchments of some sort. 

“They had encoded blueprints and schematics to banks, armored car routes, corporate vaults,” The other lady added. 

“They’re looking to score some serious dinero, and we think they’re planning to hit one of them tonight!” 

“It’s time sensitive. This is big, Buffy.” The dark haired one again added. 

“God, I so don’t have time for all of this!” Miss Buffy said to the others. “I have to go! I can’t stay here and try to explain to him that his mother’s been dead for a century, much less how he got here in the first place. You guys,” She pointed to them all, “Take him somewhere. Call someone. Do something. Heck, call Giles, maybe he’ll know something about his family. Or Willow, work your computer mojo and find a way to get it through to him. While you’re at it, maybe you guys can figure out a way to make him understand that we aren’t an induction house.”

“Introduction house,” Miss Anya corrected.

“I don’t care. Just do it. Figure out some way to explain all this to him while I go take care of Warren. And do something about his head while you’re at it. Nothing says welcome to the 21st century like a bleeding head wound.” She turned away and began marching back to the residence. 

“Buffy?” Mr. Xander called after her. “Be careful. Warren’s gone all ‘Mighty Mouse’, emphasis on the might.”

“Good. Then I won’t have to hold back.” Miss Buffy turned back to the residence and solemnly walked inside.

“Ok, color me confused,” The one with the red hair, Miss Buffy referred to her as Willow, spoke, “What’s Buffy talking about?”

“Long story,” Mr. Xander replied.

“Buffy wished Spike out of existence, and D’Hoffran was about to do it, so I turned him into who he was before he was turned.” Miss Anya supplied.

“Apparently not that long.” Mr. Xander retorted.

“Everyone,” Miss Anya waved in his direction, “Meet Lord William Pratt, heir presumptive to the Marquess of Camden.”

William felt himself stretching upright at the use of his formal title, as all of the strange young people turned to stare at him. Yet his thoughts were filled with one very alarming terrible thought that sent a chill through his very soul and gripped his heart in its icy embrace and made him feel as if he were a frightened schoolboy all over again…

“Did she say mother is dead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Seeing Red"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tara looked intently at the man standing before her, his aura very bright and wide around him. That wasn’t anything new to her. Spike’s aura was always bright and extended around him. Usually full of reds and oranges, with spikes of gold, black, and muddy gray. But whomever this person was, his aura was very different, more muddled in spots. He was covered in varying shades of purple and blue, with a bit of bright lemony yellow mingling with a muddy green, and bits of silver here and there. This person may look like Spike, but he definitely not the Spike they knew.

“Yeah right. If he’s the Marquess of Camden…” 

“Willow…” Tara tried to get Willow’s attention.

“Then do I get to be Countess Rosenberg?” Willow laughed at her own joke.

“Willow!” Tara put a hand on Willow’s shoulder, finally gaining her attention. “He’s human…,” She stared into Willows eyes to ensure she got the meaning of what she was saying.

“Once upon a time maybe…” Willow retorted.

“I’m serious, Will. I can see it. He is definitely not who you think he is,” She added, glancing at the shy and confused person standing in front of them. “His aura is human. And it’s nothing like Spike’s. I think Anya’s telling the truth.” 

“But… that’s not even possible! You can’t just unmake a vampire… can you?” Willow turned to Anya. Tara noticed that the man’s aura shifted, he was afraid… and worried. Very worried. His thoughts and emotions were running wild and he was trying to control them, but not succeeding.

“Well…sure! Not much I can’t do,” Anya seemed to be beaming with pride. “Not that I really wanted to do this, but I didn’t have a lot of choice. I mean, Buffy made the wish, and I knew she didn’t mean it, but D’Hoffran was listening and he kind of forced my hand. It was either, *poof* Spike gets a very dusty ending, or *poof* I take him back to pre-Spike. Which is also, by the way, why no one should ever underestimate the power of the wish!”

“So, you mean this is…” Willow trailed off.

“Lord William Pratt…” Anya replied.

“Heir to the Marquess of Camden.” Tara finished. 

“Presumptive,” Anya corrected. “He’s the presumptive heir.” 

“And that means..?” Tara asked.

“That he’s only the heir if his Uncle doesn’t produce a viable one that lives long enough to inherit the title.”

“Oh. Ok. So, um, Spike…” Willow asked.

“William,” Tara corrected Willow, almost at the same time that Anya did.

“William… is part of the aristocracy of Britain?” Willow sounded like she was having a really hard time accepting this. “I mean, no one ever really knew his history, so we just assumed he was always like this,” She waved her hand in William’s direction, indicating his appearance. 

Which made William look down at himself, sending even more confusion and fluster shooting dancing around his aura. They really were sort of traumatizing the poor guy.

“William?” Tara smiled at the very distressed William, hoping it would set him at ease. It seemed to marginally work. 

“I’m Tara. I bet you’re pretty confused, aren’t you?” 

He nodded his head, seeming at a loss for words.

“All of us talking around you, instead of to you? Saying some really strange things? Not really answering your questions?” She added, as she got closer to him.

He nodded again, and seemed to be fishing for the right words to say. 

“You’re worried about someone?” She asked gently.

“Mother,” He answered brokenly. “She’s not well you see…” He trailed off, his voice cracking. “I just want to make sure she’s…”

“Ok?” 

He nodded again.

“I can tell you really care about her a lot. It’s hard worrying about the ones we love.” She looked at Willow, sending her another look that she hoped conveyed just how much she loved her. 

“I know you want to see her. We’ll do everything we can to help you find her.” 

“You will?” He looked so hopeful and relieved at her statement. Then he seemed to realize he’d been a little too eager and schooled his actions. “I mean… thank you.” He gave the slightest bow of his head toward her. 

Her conscience only gave her a tiny twinge as she acknowledged to herself that her idea of ‘finding’ his mother, and his idea of ‘finding’ his mother, were very different things. This was going to be hard. She recalled how she felt when her own mother had died, and felt more than a little sorry for what he was about to go through. It was never easy losing someone you loved.

“We will, I promise. Would you mind if we took care of that wound on your head first, though? It looks pretty bad, and you wouldn’t want it to get infected. Then we can talk about finding your family. If that’s ok?” 

He seemed to waffle a bit. Torn between finding his family and being a gentleman.

“It’s really no bother. It would be our honor to help you if you’ll let us.” She hoped appealing to his own sense of honor would sway his decision.

He nodded.

“Good. If you’ll just, um, follow us inside?” She asked him

His hesitance was back, but after a brief second, he seemed to resign himself to the idea and nodded again.

As Willow stole up next to her, she placed her hand in Willow’s and they started walking up to the house. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Willow leaned in and whispered in her ear. 

“Not as much as I love you,” She smiled back at her as they walked hand and hand up the steps, and turned to see William, Xander, and Anya following. She noted William looking at her with curiosity as he stopped on the steps. Xander simply stepped around him, but Anya stopped and leaned towards him.

“Sapphists,” She heard Anya say. 

William’s expression almost made her laugh, as he seemed to ponder that a moment and then blushed three shades of red. This was certainly going to take a lot of adjustment for all of them.

Anya threaded her arm around William’s and not so gently led him through the door, which she shut behind them. 

A *lot* of adjustment.


	7. Chapter 7

After Miss Anya had ushered him inside, she had directed him to sit at their dining table, while she fetched what she termed a ‘First Aid Kit’, which Miss Tara explained was container of tinctures, plasters, and such to treat injuries on the spot. He’d assumed that they would of course fetch a doctor immediately, but they had assured him there was no need of such interventions. He, however, was not quite so certain.

In the interim, he’d been left to sit in the dining area whilst the remainder of the party observed him as if he were a scientific specimen placed under glass for closer scrutiny. Just when he’d been about to object to their rather rude behavior, Miss Anya returned with a small white container with various contents marked ‘sterile’, and various liniments. 

“Is there a dearth of doctor’s in this area?” 

“What?” Miss Willow asked, as she went about opening packages and apply some sort of liniment to his scalp. “No. No dearth. We just, have a lot of experience treating stuff like this.

That did not reassure him.

“You… have a lot of injuries in your establishment requiring treatment?”

“Establishment?” 

“He thinks this is an Introduction House,” Miss Anya supplied.

“Oookkaaay….um, been a little while since I learned about Victorian society. An Introduction House would be….. ?” Miss Willow failed to finish her sentence.

“A high-end brothel. Very discreet and selective. Usually they only entertained aristocrats of their choosing. Some of them specialized in very specific tastes. For instance, The Nunnery specialized in…”

“Dawn!” Miss Tara suddenly shouted, as a young girl burst through the door to the residence.

“Virgins…” Miss Anya finished her statement. Drawing odd looks from the rest of the assemblage. 

“Wow,” The young girl smiled rather sweetly. There seemed to be a carefree quality about her, as she hung some sort of sack or package in the foyer. “You guys really do have some strange conversations while I’m gone. Hey, Tara!” The girl’s smile fairly beamed at the lady in question, as she bounded up and gave Miss Tara a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back! I missed you *so* much!”

“Sapphist?” He inquired of Miss Anya.

“What? No!” Miss Anya started laughing. “No, Dawn is quite the little boy chaser aren’t you, Dawn? Just a few months ago she skipped out to go make out with a vampire football player.” 

“Ugh! Am I ever going to live that down?” The young girl, Dawn, asked.

Vampire? Football? Surely they were all speaking in jest. The longer he listened, then more he was convinced. What club would even desire such a creature? And how would a creature of the night attend a match? It was absurd!

“Anyway, as I was saying…” Miss Anya once again resumed.

“Yeah, I think we get the gist of it, Anya,” Miss Willow interrupted her, thank goodness for small mercies. This turn of conversation was making him rather uncomfortable in more ways than he cared to admit. “What I don’t get is why he thinks this is a brothel?”

“Well, it kind of makes sense if you think about it. I mean, put yourself in his place. Remember reading all those classics for English Lit class and how their society was very regimented? Suddenly here he is in a house full of women with no guardians or supervision?” Miss Tara furnished that explanation.

“Classics?” He asked Miss Tara. “How delightful! Did you study at Bedford? Cheltenham? Girton?” 

Everyone in the room turned to look at Miss Anya for some odd reason, completely ignoring his question. 

“Why is everyone looking at me?” Miss Anya asked, appearing a bit perturbed.

“Well, you seem to know what he’s saying so far. We just sort of assumed you knew what he was talking about.” Mr. Xander explained. Though he wasn’t quite certain what needed interpretation. 

“Sorry. I’m just so used to everyone ignoring me. It’s a little strange for you all to finally recognize that I can contribute a lot of useful information. You don’t get to be 1142 without picking up a few things along the way. You all always forget I know six earth languages, 4 demon languages, and have traveled between an infinite number of dimensions in my selfless service to scorned women for over a thousand years.”

“Okay…” Miss Dawn broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. “So, moving on…since Spike is here, does that mean we aren’t all mad at him anymore?”

He started searching for the vampire in question, unfortunately very nearly injuring Miss Willow as he stood to try and assume a position to defend himself from the demon.  


“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”  
“Hey!”  
“What’s wrong with him?”  
“Take it easy!”

Multiple shouts assaulted him at the same time, and it took him a moment to recollect himself upon realizing that said vampire was not in fact present.

“Hey Dawn, can you help me in the kitchen a moment?” Miss Tara inquired of the girl. She appeared confused, but followed regardless. After a few tense, but silent moments, they returned to the dining room, with the girl looking exceedingly perturbed. She then proceeded to pronounce that everything was “messed up” and then stormed out of the room and up the stairs in the foyer in an apparent fit of pique. 

“Geez, what’s her problems?” Mr. Xander asked.

“Dawn’s always sort of looked up to… him… as a, a, a big brother, sort of; so, she’s understandably a little upset with the, um, recent events.” Miss Tara seemed to be hedging around something, and he couldn’t help feeling as if that something was him.

“May I be so bold as to interject?” He asked the assemblage.

They all seemed to consider his request with all due seriousness before Miss Willow acquiesced. 

“I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but I’ve been listening to all of your rather bizaar, discussion this evening, and it occurs to me that something of significance has occurred; and, for reasons that escape me at the moment, it is being kept from me. I assure you, I am of stout stock and can face whatever unpleasantness you may be holding back.” 

He could feel his ire rising and knew he should fight it, but he’d had about as much mocking and jesting and social slights as he could stand this day and he was really rather done with all of the manners with which he’d been properly raised. 

“So won’t someone please cease all of this prevarication and tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Everyone stared at him, seemingly taken aback by his forthright vulgarity. Truthfully, he was rather shocked and dismayed for allowing himself to use such base and blasphemous language, particularly in the presence of the ladies. Then again, his frustration was reaching rather high and these people with their exceedingly strange conversations were leaving him no other choice. He simply could not tolerate this entire jest any longer. 

So why weren’t they speaking? What should he say next? Should he just leave? Why were they still staring at him? 

Then someone snickered. He wasn’t entirely sure who. And then another snicker and he was certain, it was the gentleman, Mr. Xander. And it did nothing but drive his ire further. 

“Sorry, sorry, you just… it’s like hearing Giles coming out of Sp…, er, William’s, mouth,” Mr. Xander provided an explanation for his behavior that explained exactly nothing. 

That was it. He would find his own way to home, or at least find the nearest constabulary to assist him. 

He turned and made for the door. Which apparently alarmed the gathered occupants, but he really could no longer care. Just as he reached the exit yet again, hopefully for the last time, the door burst open and someone came bounding through. Unfortunately, he was unable to clear the way quickly enough and said person’s momentum sent both they and he tumbling to the ground, his head striking the floor none too gently in the process. 

His vision swam as his head briefly seemed on the verge of exploding for the second time in the last several hours. However, once the proverbial fog lifted, he was greeted with an entirely different type of interesting stimuli. For lying on top of him was the body of a young, petite, warm, lithe, nubile… He stopped that train of thought. Ms. Buffy was staring down at him, and the feel of her body against him was sending a variety of delicious… no, distressing… Oh, who was he kidding, it was glorious. 

And then suddenly she was gone, and backing away from him as if frightened. But then, given his rather wonton behavior, she had every right to be repulsed. To her credit, she appeared to recover her composure with expedience. In the interim, he tried to stand despite the effort causing another round of unpleasant spinning and nausea, while apologizing for his unbecoming behavior. Which, again to her credit, she assured him the entire thing had been her own fault. He really needed to get away from these people… but not without thanking his kind, if unusual, benefactor, of course. 

“Ms. Buffy, I am truly grateful for the hospitality you have provided in my time of need, but I must take my leave. While I could never, of course, repay your kindness, I must insist on making recompense for your efforts. If you would kindly provide me with information regarding whom I should direct my solicitor to contact to make arrangements?” 

“You’re leaving?” She appeared confused. 

“I do hope you won’t think me ungrateful, but I must,” He asserted. 

“I… don’t understand, where are you going?” She asked. “Guys, where is he going?” She turned and asked the assemblage. 

“I must return home with haste. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” He stepped around her, the door just inches away now and the nearness of his goal encouraged him on. 

Right up until a rather strong hand gripped his arm. He turned slightly to see that, interestingly, the inexplicably firm grip belonged to Ms. Buffy. However, she was not looking at him, but rather the assembled occupants still. 

“Why does he still think he’s going home?” She asked. 

That question was odd and more than a little concerning. Were they planning to keep him here against his will? He tugged a bit on the captive arm, to see if he could loosen the grip, which unfortunately resulted in said grip tightening rather than setting him free. This was becoming even more alarming. 

“You did explain to him, right?” 

She seemed to be growing rather annoyed with each question she asked. What was it they were to explain to him? She had given that instruction prior to departing earlier, and despite her directive he could not elicit any explanation from any of them. Perhaps they were undecided in keeping him for whatever nefarious reasoning they had developed? He began earnestly trying to free himself from Ms. Buffy’s iron like grasp on his arm, but the more he struggled, the more firmly it tightened until he was beginning to regret struggling, as it was now becoming somewhat painful. 

“You didn’t, did you?” Her voice held a tone of incredulity. “Unbelievable.” 

He decided that ceasing his struggle would result in less damage to his limb, but unfortunately it did not result in her loosening her grasp. 

“Ms. Buffy?” He tentatively tried to get her attention. “If I may…” 

“No, you may not!” She turned to face him, still on the verge of crushing his arm. 

He froze. They did intent to detain him! For what purpose? Would they demand money? Would he become the next unfortunate citizen to disappear? Were they in league with the vampires? Did they intend to murder him? He renewed his struggle with increased fervor.

“I demand you release me!” He insisted, his fear reaching new heights as the hand grew tighter and tighter. Surely this was no ordinary human. Was she one of them? A demon? His arm was now sending sharp stabs of bright pain to his body. 

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop! Please! You're hurting me! What is it you want?!” 

Curiously, she seemed to recoil her hand from him as if burned. He took his chance and lurched for the door, just clearing it as he heard her call out for him to wait. He couldn’t let them catch him. Not again. He ran as if his life depended on it. It probably did! 

He could hear them calling after him, and he was certain they were making chase, but he was determined these hounds of hell would not claim their prize, and he pushed himself to increase his speed. If he was to make good on his escape from these villains, he had to further his lead. 

Just as he rounded a corner he chanced to run into a group of men. He stopped and quickly begged their assistance, with promise of fortune for whomever could direct him to the police, or at least a cab. They looked at him oddly only a moment before laughing at him, as one of them called him a traitor and told him to get lost. 

And then one of them did something rather odd and disconcerting… he sniffed him. His intuition was beginning to warn him that he should make a hasty retreat from this group as well, and more so when one of them declared to the others, "He’s human!" 

“Get him!” Came an enthusiastic directive, as he turned and fled. However, they moved with such swiftness that he hadn’t taken more than a few steps before they had seized him, and begun pushing him amongst each other, taunting him. Their faces were ghoulish, with eyes shining in predatory glee, their evil laughs and taunts rand in his ears. “Spike,” they repeated over and over, seeming to connect the name to him somehow, until suddenly the pushing and taunting ceased as a searing jolt of pain seized upon his neck, wrenching a scream from his throat. Then another seized the other side of his throat, tearing into it as a wild dog would. Flesh and fabric were torn from his arm by another. Time expanded, as he felt his life sliding from him, preparing to shake off its mortal confines. 

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. His tormentors were now gathered around another person, and engaging in fierce combat. His mind registered that Mr. Xander and Ms. Anya were there and trying to direct him away from the demons. He was unsure if he should let them, but the telling life’s blood slipping through his fingers at his throat told him that they were perhaps the smaller threat of the two. 

And then his eyes glanced upon a vision of an angel. 

She was amidst the group of demons, performing what could only be described as a exquisitely enthralling dance; her graceful limbs stretching out in delicate and precise movements: a pirouette, an arabesque, a saut de basque, a jete´entrelace´, an ecarte´, a rond de jambe, a soubresaut. As she danced, her golden crown of spun gold shimmered and circled about her, a halo for the angel. Each move of her resplendent form sent the demons into flight, or vanquished them in a wisp of smoke and dust. As if they were nothing more than the fitful dreams of a child, disbursed with the first fragile strands of light from Helios’s chariot as it breached the horizon. 

And then there were none. Only the radiant angel was left... standing resolute, glistening in the light of the moon and stars, gleaming as if by an internal light inside her. Ms. Buffy, an angel of brilliant beauty, truly, unequivocally… effulgent.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Fear and doubt ran through her over and over as she sat in the waiting room for news from the ER doctor about how William was doing. When she had come running around the corner and saw the vampires making a meal out of him, something inside her just flipped. Slaying vampires was what she did. It was her calling. She didn’t take it personally, too much, when they fought her or wanted her dead. It was just part of the job. But seeing Spike…. William, a very human William, being helplessly sucked dry… well, it made her angry. And she’d taken that anger out on every one of them.

When it was all over with, she looked around to make sure that one of the others had gotten to him. She spotted Xander and Anya, doing their best to keep him upright, and William was giving her that look, right before he passed out, almost taking Xander and Anya to the ground. She’d seen that look a hand full of times; when she came down the stairs the night that Willow resurrected her, that night in the abandoned house, and others. It was always the same look, like he’d just witnessed a miracle or a blessing, or heck found the holy grail or something. There was something about that look that made her feel weird. One part of her felt confident and warm and special, like she could make his entire world worth living ten lifetimes. The other part of her felt horrible that he would think of her that way when in reality, she was just a girl. A flawed and mixed up girl who had used him and his feelings against him just because they were there and she could, and she’d really needed to feel something other than hollow. 

And now, because of Spike’s stupid, careless, soulless, actions… and her errant wish, she had this new person to take care of. This person who looked exactly like Spike, but was in so many ways very unlike him. But then there were times like when he had that look; it was so easy to forget that he wasn’t Spike at all. Angel had said that who they were in life informed who they were in death. So how did Spike get from William to, well, Spike? Was he really that far from him? Somehow she couldn’t see William jumping into a fight or relishing their creative and twisted sex life, with the joy de vive that Spike exuded in almost everything he did. William seemed a lot like the rest of Sunnydale, ready to pretend that the bad things didn’t exist and that if they did, then it was someone else’s job to do something to take care of it. Her job, in fact. And so they all went about their normal little lives with their normal little spouses and normal little 2.5 children until they died a normal death and were planted in a normal little cemetery for all their future generations to ignore. William definitely seemed like he would fit right in with that lifestyle. 

So now they had normal old William, whom they couldn’t even figure out how to explain in a way he’d understand that he’d been transported a hundred plus years into the future, and who was now in an ER bay because he’d nearly been drained by a gang of vamps. How was she supposed to protect him? Should she even try? Maybe she should send him to Giles; he’d at least be able to help him locate any family he might have left. Maybe they could come up with a story about him being a long-lost nephew, or a great-great-great grandson by some secret lover, or something. He’d be home at least, back in England. Then again, hadn’t Giles cleaned up enough of her messes? No, this one was definitely her mess to clean up.

The doctor finally emerged and gave everyone the good news that William seemed to be doing ok, and they had stitched up all his wounds and given him a transfusion, and something to help him relax since he’d “understandably” been a little hysterical when he woke up in the hospital. Boy, if they only knew! She could only imagine his terror. The doctor said he was resting comfortably now though, and they were going to watch him a few more hours and then let him go home. He’s been so pale, even for Spike, when they’d brought him in. She’d been worried that he might have lost too much blood. She didn’t know anything about his health or family history before he’d been turned. Heck, at this point the only thing they really knew was his name and that somehow he’d been a nobleman. And wasn’t that a kick in the head? 

When she was younger, she’d dressed as a noblewoman in an attempt to catch Angel’s eye, not knowing at the time that he didn’t even like noblewomen in life. And here Spike was, an actual nobleman in his former life who apparently wouldn’t even look at anyone who hadn’t been a noblewoman. That was definitely not the way she would have pegged either of those two. Then again, that was all in the past, and the hear and now was, well, hear and now. They could only move forward. It was time to start cleaning up, and there was no time like the present.

She made her way down the hallway following the doctor, and then through the door indicated. There, she was greeted with a sight she really had never in her life she thought she would ever see in a million years. A pale and battered looking young man, a stranger really, who looked exactly like a pale and battered looking Spike, laying in a hospital bed, with IV’s in his arms, breathing slowly, as monitors all around beeped out his steady heart rate and other things that left no doubt that this man was very much alive and not undead. She pulled the chair up closer to the bed and waited for him to wake.

She knew the moment he started to wake up because almost before he was really awake to know what he was doing, his left hand started to scratch and worry with the IV in his right arm. 

“Hey there,” She tried to be soothing, as she placed her hand over his to try and still his movements. “I know those are super annoying, but you need to leave them alone. Trust me on this one.”

A set of sky blue eyes blinked open to stare at her, a little blankly at first as if he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing, and then he seemed to really focus on her.

“Ms. Buffy?” 

“The one and only,” She was trying to be cheery.

He looked around the room, probably trying to figure out where he was and why. Unfortunately, that seemed to make him more and more worried, if the frantic beeping of the monitors were any indication.

“William? Hey, it’s ok!” She tried to get him to calm down, but he didn’t seem to be hearing her. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and looked like he was going to bolt for the door until he realized the only clothing he had on was one of those delightful hospital gowns. She could almost see the thoughts in his mind as they flew across his face, and she had to stifle a giggle as he looked rather indignant and worried about his lack of clothing. 

“William, please, take it easy! I know you’re confused and scared. It’s ok.” 

The look he sent her told her what he thought about that statement, but at least he started to settle down.

“You’re safe, ok?” She looked at him, and sat down again, hoping it would get him to relax more. “You lost a lot of blood and passed out, so we brought you to the hospital. The doctors took care of all your injuries and gave you some blood.”

“Hospital?” His voice held a slight edge of hysteria, and she briefly wondered what hospitals were like in his time.

“Hey, right there with you. I hate ‘em too, but you needed a doctor, and this place is pretty skilled at handling injuries like yours.”

He relaxed a little, and let his head rest back again the bed.

“What were those… things? Were they…” He left the question unfinished. 

“Vampires?” She asked in return. “Yes. They almost killed you.”

“I remember,” He was staring at nothing for a moment, then he looked back at her, his brow creased in confusion. “They seemed to think that I was this vampire, Spike, you spoke of earlier,” He paused. “But then you, you killed them… all of them.” He was looking at her like he expected her to tell him that he was wrong. 

“Yes,” she smiled softly.

He seemed to consider that for a long time. 

“I, I don’t understand… how? How could you?” 

She thought about that question for a long time. How did she answer that? How much did she tell him? Finally, she decided just to tell him everything. She could at least give him the truth. He deserved to know. 

“William, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to hear me out and let me finish before you interrupt, ok?” 

He looked like he was a little worried, but nodded a yes. 

“All of those stories your parents told you as a kid about the things that go bump in the night? They’re true. And I’m the thing that kills them. Every generation, one girl is given the power to defeat the vampires and demons. A vampire slayer. And right now, that’s me. You with me so far?”

He looked like the wheels in his brain were running a million miles a minute, but he nodded again. 

“Since you were born… When were you born?” She asked.

It took him a second to switch gears with her, but he finally answered.

“What? Oh, uh, July twenty-fifth, eighteen hundred fifty-three, why do you ask?” 

So William was almost a hundred and forty-nine. Or, well, Spike was almost a hundred and forty-nine. William was really just twenty-six, sort of. Ugh, this getting rather hard to keep track of.

“OK! So now we know your birthday. That’s good! You’re a Leo. Well, if you believe in that sort of thing.” Judging by his expression, he had no clue what she was talking about.

“Anyway, as I was saying, since you were born in 1853, there have been at around thirty different vampire slayers. Some of us make it several years, some of us only months… days even. I’ve been the slayer for six years now. I was called in 1997 when I was fifteen.”

His eyebrows shut up about 3 feet at that. She almost laughed. She could only imagine how hard this must be for him to believe. Heck, it was hard enough for her to believe it some days. Now to get to the hard part.

“Yes, that means that it is currently 2002. May 7th, to be exact. Confused yet?” His expression answered the question for her. 

“It gets even more complicated. See, not only are all the stories you were told real, but so is magic.” He rolled his eyes at that.

“I know, hard to believe. But without magic, I wouldn’t be here.” That earned her a curious look.

“When a slayer dies, her powers are given to the next girl to be called. How do you think that happens without magic?” 

He seemed to concede her point. 

“And then there is the fact that Willow and Tara are both pretty powerful witches.” 

A tiny bit of fear flashed in his eyes. Crap! Did they still believe witches were all evil in 1880? Didn’t a lot of people still believe it now? 

“Good witches! Helping people, healing, finding lost stuff, all good! No evil at all!” 

He still didn’t look convinced.

“In fact, when I died almost a year ago, Willow used her magic to bring me back.” A shiver ran up her spine at that thought, and when she looked up again, she could swear William looked curiously concerned. “It was a little… traumatic… for me.” She smiled, hoping it would put an end to that point of the conversation. It seemed to work. 

“So, you see, magic is all around us. It is a living part of our world. And it is what lets a demon animate the undead, vampires, zombies, all of that.” 

He again seemed to consider everything. At least he was still listening and didn’t seem to be wigging out yet.

“That’s all quite fascinating Ms. Buffy, but I’m not certain as to how any of this pertains…”

“To you?” Buffy interrupted. He nodded.

“I’m getting there. See, in 1880 you left a meeting at a club, upset over something that was said,” She saw him flinch at the mention of the painful, and to him still fresh, memory. “After you left, you ran into a vampire named Drusilla. She…” She took a breath and prepared to say the rest of it. “She killed and turned you.”

He frowned a moment, then seemed to be trying to think of something. Then the monitors started beeping faster and faster.

“But you’re not a vampire now!” She rushed out, to try and get him to calm down. 

That got her an even more confused look.

“So, someone cured me?” 

How did she answer that one? How much about Spike did she tell him? How did she tell him he got from 1880 to now without telling him, unless she planned on lying to him.

“No,” She answered, carefully avoiding eye contact. “There isn’t a cure for being a vampire. A few spells that can give them more human-like characteristics, a soul, stuff like that, but those are pretty rare and don’t usually work out very well.”

“But, you said…”

“You’re alive? Yes, very much so.” She was avoiding looking at him again. She was afraid he would see through her. She didn’t know how much of Spike was really William, but better safe than sorry.

“Then, I’m afraid I’m not understanding…”

“I made a wish.” It just kind of flew out of her mouth. Stupid mouth. Now he looked more confused than ever. 

“Sorry. Let me back up. After you were turned, you changed your name to Spike, and you spent the next hundred plus years taking care of Drusilla. She’s kind of a little bit insane.Anyway, you traveled with Drusilla, and two other vampires, Angelus and Darla all over the world for the next twenty or thirty years killing and destroying everyting in your path. Collectively you were known as The Scourge of Europe.”

He seemed to be taken aback.

“At some point, Drusilla was injured by a mob and you brought her here to Sunnydale, California to find her sire, Angelus, so you could do a spell to heal her with his blood. That’s how you met me. Angelus had been cursed with a soul and he was here in Sunnydale helping me here on the Hellmouth. You and I, we fought. A lot. Neither one of us ever did manage to kill the other.”

She decided she’d skip over the whole Angel losing his soul part. And the wheelchair, too. 

“I stopped you from killing Angel, but Dru has healed anyway, and you took her to South America for a while. Then, she cheated on you, so you came back to Sunnydale three years ago. Soon after that, you were captured by a government agency, and they put a behavior modification chip in your head that made it so you couldn’t hurt anyone. After that, you start helping us. Helping me.”

She took another deep breath. She could tell he was still waiting for her to get to the part about how he was alive.

“Last year you helped me defeat a hell god.” She decided she needed to give him something good in there. He looked a little shocked. Maybe a tiny bit proud, even. “But she had already opened a portal. And the only way to close it was to sacrifice myself.”

“You really died? You were serious?” 

She nodded. 

“And while I was… gone… you took care of Dawn for me,” She smiled. “You promised me that night that you would protect her, until the end of the world. You also helped Xander, Willow, and the others, keep the vampires and demons under control until Willow brought me back.” Again with the shiver.

“After that, you… helped me… adjust. You listened to me, let me be just…me. We… we, um… we became… involved… physically.” She chanced a glance at him. His look went from confused to shocked to open wonder in the space of just a few seconds. 

“Were we …?” He blushed just a tiny bit and cleared his throat. “That is to say, were we…” He stuttered out.

“In love?” She finished. 

His face was so hopeful; it was almost painful for her to see.

“You told me at least a thousand times,” She smiled at the memory of how annoyed she’d felt every time he’d said it. “But, we had… stopped… seeing each other, recently. And then earlier today, you came by to talk, and uh… we, um… we… had a… a, fight... about us.” Moments flashed through her mind. Fight wasn’t exactly the word for it, but William didn’t need to know that. “After you left, Anya appeared. She’s a vengeance demon. She grants wishes to women who have been hurt. I wasn’t paying much attention, and I said that I wished…” She didn’t finish the sentence, finding it rather hard to say the words out loud suddenly.

“You wished…?” He asked.

“I wished that Spike didn’t exist.” She looked at him, silently begging forgiveness from him, even though he wasn’t the person whose forgiveness she wanted to beg. That would be Spike. And he was gone. She felt the telling sting of tears forming in her eyes. 

For someone who wasn’t Spike, he sure looked like Spike after she’d just kicked him in the head again and told him how beneath her he was. 

“Anya knew I didn’t mean it.” Words just started spilling out. “She didn’t want to do it, but her boss was going to if she didn’t, and she knew… she knew I didn’t mean it! I didn’t!” Tears were falling hard now as she shook her head. “I didn’t want you dust. I didn’t. So she, she unmade you. She took you from the moment you died and turned you back into William, and Spike just _stopped_ existing. Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, please, please, forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry,” She was now just repeating herself as the tears burned dozens of searing tracks down her face. 

He took it all in, staring at her forever it seemed. And then she saw it in his eyes. That look. Whenever Spike was hurt, he turned it into anger. Apparently, so did William. The muscles of his neck and jaw were tensing as he clenched his teeth, and venom filled his eyes. 

“William, I’m so sorry…”

“I _wish_ you would leave,” 

She didn’t need to be told twice.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – 

His vision was locked on the reflection staring back at him, wondering exactly who and what he had become as a vampire after his death. What had possessed him to make his hair this garish color? Why had he clipped it so short? It rather reminded him of his father, what little he could remember of him, save the color of course. And what of this scar trisecting his brow? How does an immortal creature develop such a mark? Or was it something that happened when he was attacked by the woman in the alley, Drusilla? 

And what of his name, Spike? What an odd moniker. Why had he chosen it? Miss Buffy said he’d traveled with three other vampires, Drusilla, the one who’d turned him into a vampire, Darla, and Angelus, who’d “sired” Drusilla. Did that mean Angelus was her father? Were they now family? He’d apparently been devoted to her for more than a century. Spike, such an odd name. Did all vampires choose a single name, or did they have family names and titles? Where were these others now? Would they try to murder him as the others had earlier, or merely turn him into a vampire once more? 

And what had he been like as a vampire? “ _The scourge of Europe_ ,” she’d called them. That certainly didn’t have any good implications. “ _Killing and destroying everything in your path_ ,” she’d told him. Had he really become such a monster? No thought or feeling for others, discarding lives so carelessly? 

But apparently, he’d also retained a bit of noble character. Or had he? She’d said the government had put something called a “behavior modification chip” in his head. Was it still there? How did such a thing work? How did it modify his behavior? He didn’t feel like something was currently altering his behavior. Still, he could not fathom how something put in his head could so drastically alter his behavior to take him from being an instrument of wanton destruction to dispatching a Hell God. As an agent of evil, wouldn’t he have been trying to assist the Hell God? 

And what of the young girl, Dawn? Miss Buffy had said that he’d promised to care for her until the end of the world, and he evidently had, while helping her associates maintain order against the vampires and demons in her absence. Thinking back, he recalled Miss Tara saying that the girl had seen him as a brother. He’d always wanted siblings, and could certainly imagine himself doting on her. And what of her associates? Where these his friends as well? They seemed to be quite familiar with him, to say the least. 

And what of Miss Buffy? He’d apparently abandoned the lady he’d devoted his love to for a century due to a tryst, and he’d come here to apparently fall madly in love with Miss Buffy. He could certainly imagine doing so. Her unadorned beauty was unparalleled. Her being seemed as if it were born of fire and grace and power like he’d never beheld. His mind recalled the words of the creature who’d made him a vampire, “You walk in worlds the others can’t begin to imagine.” The words were more aptly applied to Miss Buffy. Loving her would come as easily as breathing. He’d become her companion, declared his love to her a thousand times, and they’d been physically intimate. Yet, according to her recounting, they had recently ceased such relations. Just that day they’d had a quarrel that led to her wishing him dead. Or, rather, that he no longer even existed. Why? What could have led to such a seething hatred as to warrant such a wish?

Was he an evil creature who took the innocence and life of others at will? Had he committed some evil against her? He shuddered to think such a thing. Love was not something that was so easily dispatched with life. His associates were certainly known to partake in the pleasures of the flesh, but he’d never been one to fall victim to his baser desires, until tonight when Drusilla seemed to truly see him for who he was inside. Had becoming a vampire changed him so completely? If so, why had he devoted a hundred years to Drusilla? Why had he gone so far as to seek out this Angelus fellow to cure her sickness? And why declare his love so effusively to Miss Buffy? And why, at her death, would he then swear an oath to care for the young girl in her charge? 

And yet, he’d spent that same time murdering innocents. He’d become an instrument of destruction. He’d become a creature of darkness. How many had he slaughtered while embracing his demonic nature? How many virtues had he taken? Had he made them into other vampires, stealing their soul’s from them as they begged for life one last moment? Did he have a soul now? Had he unwittingly made a Faustian bargain in exchange for the physical pleasure and comfort Drusilla had offered earlier in the stables? Was he now doomed to suffer an eternity of torment upon death, for crimes he did not even recall?

Had he completely abandoned his current life and duties, or carried on with them for a time? What of mother? Had he abandoned her, or killed her, as Mr. Xander had suggested? He couldn’t imagine even his evil self causeing any harm to come to her. What of Cecily? Had she wondered what became of him? What of his nephew? Had he grown into a young man and inherited the title, or had he perished as a youth, and with no surviving male heir, the title perishing with him? Did he have any family remaining at this time, or had his own death sealed the fate of the family for eternity?

Who was this person looking back at him? A scoundrel? A penitent? A villain? A man of nobility? A sinner? A paramour? An unfortunate fool who gave his heart to those who would not take it? Someone who took what they wanted from others for a hundred and twenty-two years?

He wasn’t the presumptive heir of Lord Camden anymore, that was certain. That fellow had apparently died long ago. He wasn’t this Spike fellow anymore either as he wasn’t an immortal creature, a vampire, any longer. He wasn’t the man he’d been just a few hours prior either. How could he be, knowing all he did now? He still felt like himself. Or did he? Had such a small amount of knowledge changed him? Had a hundred twenty-two years that he didn’t recall still molded him into someone else? He’d done things, some he was glad he couldn’t recall, and others he desperately wished he could remember. And if he was neither William nor Spike, then who was he? 

And what did this person staring back at him do now that he’d been transported through time and space to this strange new place in America? Did he abandon all pretense of who he was, or rather who he used to be? The thought seemed rather frightening, but also rather intriguing, perhaps even exhilarating. The idea of becoming someone new, without the encumbrance of title or duty, did sound appealing. To simply seize the moment and freely live his life? All the things he could see and do, or immerse himself in the study of anything he desired. Then again, how could he so easily consider abandoning everything he’d ever known? With neither past nor present, how and where and with whom did he even begin to forge a future? He needed answers. A lot of them. But not from her. Not yet, at least. 

“William?” The young woman’s voice called to him from beyond the door, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s Dawn. I know you’ve had a really bad day and all; but, I was wondering if you were planning to come out anytime soon? Not that I’m trying to rush you or anything, but some of us kind of have to use the bathroom, like…soon.” 

It was time to find out exactly who he was, and he thought he might know just who could help him find the answers.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – 

Who knew that asking the young girl if he’d been good or evil would be a question that led to such a complex and detailed answer?

“And I would hang out and listen to your stories. Like this one time you told me about a family where the little girl was hiding in a coal bin, but right before you got to the good part, Buffy interrupted us.” 

What could he have been thinking to tell a young girl such fiendish stories?

“Anyway, you would always let me hang out there after school. For some reason, you just seemed to have a way of making me feel safe.”

Dear Lord! Surely she was speaking in jest?

“You didn’t treat me like a kid. You always listened and didn’t talk to me like I couldn’t possibly understand anything that was going on. I liked that about you. Things were just easier when I was around you, you know?” 

He surely didn’t. 

“Which isn’t to say you were the best babysitter ever. I mean, you did help me break into the Magic Box and read through Giles’ watcher diaries. That’s how you discovered I was The Key, which is what Glory, the Hell God, was looking for.”

“The key?” This made no sense at all. The key to what?

“Oh right! You don’t remember any of that. Well, apparently before I was human, I was a mystical ball of energy that opens the barriers between all the dimensions. But then these monks turned me into Buffy’s sister so that she would protect me from Glory and couldn’t use my blood to turn Earth and every other dimension into one ginormous Hell dimension.”

“Good Lord!” He couldn’t help the outburst. This was all quite fantastic.

“But she ended up capturing me anyway, and she tied me up on this big tower built by crazy people, and then this creepy old dude came out of nowhere to start the ritual. That’s when you showed up to save me.”

“I did?”

“Well, you tried to save me. He was some sort of really fast little demon, and he ended up stabbing you and then throwing you off the tower. But then Buffy showed up and threw him off the tower. Except, he had already started making these cuts on my stomach, and all the blood started to open up the hell dimension and it started to combine with this one. And the prophecy said the only way to stop it was for the blood to stop flowing. I was just about to jump when Buffy realized that we had the same blood, and sacrificed herself by jumping instead.”

“She really died?” It was still a bit difficult to conceive that she could have actually died and been resurrected. 

“Yeah. It was kind of hard to accept at first. I think we all thought she’d win like always. I mean, I guess she really did, ‘cause Glory’s dead, and this isn’t part of some big Hell dimension, but still…” She paused and dabbed a sleeve at her eyes. “I think that was when the rest of the gang finally believed that you really cared about her.”

“They didn’t believe before?” That seemed an odd thing for her to reveal.

“No. See, they all have this weird idea that vampires can’t love because they don’t have a soul. But all anyone had to do was look at you to see you were totally in love with Buffy.”

“I was?” Was he?

“Yeah. It was kind of hard for any of them to deny it that morning. You were so… I’ve never seen a person so… distraught? You didn’t talk about it after that, no one did, but I think you kind of blamed yourself. You were pretty overprotective around me after that. Anyway, I think that before that Buffy just didn’t want to believe it because that would make the whole Angel versus Angelus thing complete and utter bullsh…. Uh, baloney.”

Ah, yes, the vampire who had “sired” Drusilla. What did he have to do with this?

“Anyway, the way you let Glory torture you in order to keep her from finding out I was the key? Helping me try to bring our mom back after she died? Keeping me safe all those times I snuck out without telling Buffy? Helping Buffy patrol all the time? Offering to stake Drusilla to prove you love Buffy? Helping me figure out what I was? Getting yourself thrown off a tower trying to save me? I mean, yeah, you used to be evil once upon a time, but you’ve always been really nice to our mom and to me, and you do love Buffy, even if you did hurt her.”

“I hurt her?” Was this what had led to the fateful wish?

“Well, you kind of slept with Anya the other day. It really hurt Buffy a lot.”

That was certainly a revelation. He could understand now why she’d made the wish. But if he truly had loved Miss Buffy, then how could he have engaged in a tryst with Miss Anya? Perhaps he did deserve her spite.

“If it helps, when I came to see you earlier today you said that the thing with Anya was just something that sort of happened after you both had a few drinks.”

“You’re too kind, Miss Dawn. I begin to comprehend why Miss Buffy would make such a wish as she did.”

“I don’t think that was it,” She interjected.

“No?”

“I mean, sure, it hurt her a lot to see you and Anya, but it was a sad kind of hurt and not an ‘I wish you didn’t exist’ kind of hurt.”

He thought about all she’d said. He certainly was a rather strange and confusing vampire. Taking care of a young girl? Telling her stories of murdering families? Philandering? Offering to murder Drusilla to somehow prove his love to Miss Buffy?   
________________________________

“Well, when you first came to Sunnydale you were certainly all with the big and mysterious evil. You crashed back to school night in your all black clothes and cool leather coat. Killed a bunch of people all over town.” Mr. Xander seemed rather unfazed during his telling as if this was a rather common occurrence. “You almost killed Buffy a couple of times.”

“I did?”

“Oh sure. But then she’d give you the slayer smackdown, and you’d run back to your crazy girlfriend. But then Angel lost his soul and turned into Angelus after he and Buffy got all…” He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“You know what? Not important. What is important, is that after Buffy kicked his ass, he got his soul back and you left town. For one glorious year, we didn’t have to put up with your bleached brain schemes. I kind of miss it.”

“Schemes?”

“Oh yeah. You tend to be pretty big on ideas. Execution? Not so much. If a vampire could have ADHD, you’d be patient zero.”

He certainly had an odd manner of speaking. He’d have to ask one of the others what ADHD was, and how one obtained it. Perhaps Miss Anya could shed some light on this subject?

“But after The Initiative put that chip in your head, you weren’t so much with the grand schemes as the pathetic, self-absorbed whining about how bad your life was. I was never so glad as I was when you finally moved out the basement.”

“The basement?” 

“Well, we couldn’t figure out where else to keep you. We couldn’t exactly leave you chained up in Giles’s bathtub forever, so we tied you up in my parent’s basement instead. By the way, Hawaiian shirts are not your friend.”

He wasn’t sure what he meant by that. 

“Miss Dawn also mentioned someone by the name of Giles. Is he Miss Buffy’s guardian?”

“Well, I guess you could call him that. He’s Buffy’s Watcher. See, Buffy’s a vampire slayer, and every vampire slayer gets a watcher to help and train her. They also keep a diary of all the battles and demons that she fights. They have endless amounts of books on every slayer and every demon. I hear they’ve even got a few on you. Or, well, Spike that is. Giles is Buffy’s Watcher. He’s from England, too. In fact, there’s a whole Watcher’s Council is in England. All a bunch of holier than though stuffed shirts if you ask me.”

“So, this ‘chip’ you speak of? It somehow reversed my evil nature?”

“Of course not! You’re still evil. Or, well, Spike was. Being as how you’re William and not Spike, you aren’t evil. Spike was always evil. The chip just made him unable to hurt people. If it hadn’t been for the chip, Spike probably would have bagged his third slayer by now, and killed the rest of us while he was at it.”

“Pardon me for asking, but, what do you mean, ‘bagged his third slayer’?” 

“Well, Spike was the slayer of slayers. He killed two slayers, and was obsessed with making Buffy his third.”

“I killed other Slayers?”

“Well, not you. But yeah, Spike did.”

“And I wanted to kill Miss Buffy?” 

“Well, yeah, at first. Then once you got the chip, you just kind of became crazy stalker guy. You thought you were in love with her and everything.”  
___________________________________________

“Well, they don’t understand the complexities of demon souls. You can’t blame them really. Then again, I think they really don’t want to understand because it would interfere with their little black and white worldviews.” Miss Anya explained.

“So I had a demon soul?” 

“Yes. It moves in and takes the place of your human soul. You keep all your memories and everything, but depending on how strong the demon is and how well it merges with your own consciousness, you may or may not keep certain aspects of your character. I mean, you’re still you to an extent.”

“I’m still myself?”

“Oh yes! Granted, none of us would have guessed that Spike was a member of the Peerage, but then again, it certainly explains a few things.”

“It does?” 

“Oh yes! The way you choose your partner and then set your sights and then never give up? Looking back, that’s very classical of someone of your station from that era. The social and cultural expectations of what and who you should choose to partner yourself with were very ingrained and difficult for people like you to overcome. It’s only natural you would want to choose a partner with the highest standing, which in this case would be Buffy. She would definitely be the top of the ladder outside your own species. Come to think of it, that’s probably why there aren’t many vampires from the late Victorian era still around. That, and I would imagine most vampires would have preferred to just eat the aristocrats since they would probably be even more insufferable if they were turned.”

“Insufferable?”

“Boy, you could be insufferable at times! Not your fault really, you are simply a product of your status and time. You were raised with certain expectations and that would obviously carry over into your vampire self. I remember the men back then quite well. I did, after all, spend a bit of time in your neck of the woods before popping over to Russia for a while. You aristocrats from that era held quite the double standard when it came to women. The brothels back then were my bread and butter, but the wives certainly weren’t short on vengeance wishes either.”

“I… I’ve, never…”

“Oh, I know you’ve never. Hallie spilled the beans a couple of months ago after Buffy’s birthday party. When she called you William, and I saw you recognize her, I summoned her a couple of days later and made her dish the dirt on you.”

“Hallie?”

“Oh, sorry! You knew her as Cecily.”  
“Cecily? You… you spoke with Cecily? She’s still alive?” 

“Oh, sure! She’s a vengeance demon like me. When you met her, she was currently pretending to be an Underwood so she could get close enough to corner a certain family. She said you were quite the thorn in her side during that time. Every time she had them right where she wanted them, you’d be there with the poetry and the moon eyes, and the stuttering. You know what, she can probably tell this way better than I can… Halfrek!”

“Halfrek?” 

“Hallie! I know you’re still hanging around. You can’t tell me word hasn’t gotten out yet that I unmade a vampire! Hallie!”

Suddenly Cecily was standing among them.

“Anya dear, you do know I have a whole summoning ritual, right?”

“Cecily?” She’d adopted the same style of dress as the other ladies here in the residence, though she appeared more polished than the others, as was her custom. Otherwise, she looked exactly as she had when he’d seen her earlier. No, that was over a hundred years ago, he reminded himself.

“William!” She smiled and preened her hair a bit as it hung loose about her shoulders. He’d never seen it down before. 

“Hallie! William was asking about you, and I figured you could tell him about your little recurrent gig better than I can.”

“Gig? I have no ‘gigs,’ Anya. I have serious vengeance that I take the utmost pride in carrying out to the best of my ability.”

“Whatever,” Miss Anya made a show of rolling her eyes. “Why don’t you tell him about your serious vengeance and why you drove him out the night he disappeared. In the meantime, I’m starving. Think I’ll go make me a sandwich.”

And with that, Miss Anya made a rather swift exit, leaving him alone with Cecily.

“Do you mind if I sit?” She asked him tentatively.

“No, no, but all means!” He stood and invited her to sit on the settee, then sat back down.

“William… I want you to know that I had absolutely no idea that when you left you would run right into The Whirlwind and be turned into a vampire. Truly, I didn’t.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t really know what else to say.

“Really, I felt awful when I recognized you a few months ago and realized that instead of going missing all those years ago, you’d been turned. How have you been?”

“Uh, evil apparently, and you?” 

“Oh, I’ve been quite busy with the vengeance. Anya did explain to you that I’m a vengeance demon, yes?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Oh good. I am so sorry I pushed you away at the party, but I was trying to focus on my work you see, and you were such a distraction. It wasn’t that you were anything less than a perfect gentleman, but I was getting close to my objective and didn’t want you to be caught up in the end result. I had to find a way to make you leave.”

“I… I see.”

“Oh, William, I don’t think you do. You were so far above those other imbeciles you wanted to be friends with, but they wanted to do nothing more than laugh at you. I felt certain that one day you would make some young lady a fine husband, but not if you stayed at that club while I carried out vengeance. If it’s any consolation, most of them met with a rather unpleasant ending shortly after you left.”

“I… I’m not sure what to say.”

“Well, thank you wouldn’t be a bad start.” She gave a light pat on his hand. “I suppose I did you a bit of favor, sending you out like that. You became part of The Whirlwind and got to see the world. You didn’t die gasping from some awful disease. You get to see all the marvels of the modern world and have taken quite a fancy to the Slayer I hear. I bet that’s led to some rather interesting evenings, yes?”

He couldn’t quite find the words to respond to that question.

“Oh for Pete sake, Hallie, I unmade him, remember? He doesn’t remember a thing about being Spike. For all he knows, Spike never existed.”

“Except, he did, didn’t he? Or else William wouldn’t be here and now, instead of back in 1880. I see what you did there, Anya.”

“So, I took a little creative license. What was I supposed to do, just dust him and then hope Buffy didn’t try to take my head off when she realized she still had feelings for him?”

“I wasn’t criticizing, Anya.” Cecily stood up. “I was just remarking that you unmaking him wasn’t purely unmaking him.”

“Still, he doesn’t remember anything Spike did. He doesn’t know he’s been all around the world or ate children for snacks,”

“Children?”

“Or committed a century of rape, pillage, and murder for fun.”

“Did you say…?”

“Or apparently spent many, many, hours of wild sex and mutual orgasms with who knows how many women, not to mention Buffy.”

“Wh….wh…”

“And that’s another thing, it would have been a crime really to do that to someone so talented in that area.”

“Talented?”

“I mean, he did comfort me when I was still so upset about Xander. He was my solace in my dark moment of need. It was the least I could do to save his life. Preventing Buffy from going off the deep end because of guilt over killing her lover was just a bonus.” 

“Anya! I get it! He’s William. You don’t have to convince me. Just don’t let D’Hoffran in on your little secret.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me that you understand. You always did.”

They embraced each other tightly for several moments before separating. 

“Did you explain your whole vengeance thing to him?”

“I think so,” Cecily replied to Miss Anya. “William? Have I answered your questions?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure. Did he even have questions to begin with? He thought he might have, but he certainly had more questions now. But, none of them were questions he dare ask. So he nodded. 

“Lovely. It was so nice catching up with you, William. Do stay in touch!” She smiled warmly at him. “And you too, Anya! I’ll probably be around another week or so. Always plenty of orphans and such here in Sunnydale to help.”

“I’ll call you next week! We can have coffee.” Miss Anya embraced Cecily again, and then Cecily just seemed to vanish. 

“So, William. Any other questions?” Miss Anya asked.  
“No. I… you’ve been quite… helpful… with your explanations. Thank you.”

“Glad I could help!” She reached out and pat him on the shoulder, smiling radiantly, and then simply left the room.

He contemplated what he had learned in his brief interviews with the others. It all seemed so conflicting that it was rather difficult to form any kind of idea or impression on who or what he had been as a vampire. Perhaps he was going about this in the wrong manner. He’d always rather enjoyed devoting time to studying the literature, perhaps there were literary sources he could consult. There was also the previously mentioned fellow, Mr. Giles, who apparently kept a journal of the goings on pertaining to Miss Buffy. Yes, literature and study were the pillars of an educated mind. Perhaps Miss Tara and Miss Willow could assist him in locating a suitable library nearby in the morning. Miss Tara did say she’s studied classics and seemed to imply Miss Willow had as well. Yes, he’d ask their assistance tonight and get their opinions on what he’d been like before today, and then dive into researching first thing tomorrow. 

The contemplation of all he’d learned today and anticipation of locating a library tomorrow should make for a refreshingly quiet night for introspection as he found that despite the exceedingly late hour, he was rather awake and not feeling the call of Morpheus just yet. 

Now, where to find the young ladies?


	12. Chapter 12

“I get that you’ve gotta be feeling a bit out-of-the-loopy right now, but I’m not sure that learning about Spike’s past is necessarily the best way to move forward.” Miss Willow argued.

He’d found her and Miss Tara in the house’s kitchen enjoying what he assumed to be a spot of tea while engaging in idle conversation. He had posed the same question to them as he had the others, but the pair seemed to be rather reluctant to disclose much of his previous history.

“I mean, I’m happy to tell you what I know but….”

“I think what Willow means is, the past may be who you were, but it isn’t who you have to be.” Miss Tara had a rather calm and soothing manner about her that did seem to make things less complex and distressing, much like his own mother. She seemed to exude a quality of caring and compassion that surpassed that of her companions. He would very much like to cultivate a friendship with her if possible. Miss Willow was a bit more guarded in her discussion. 

“It’s just, I think you’ve had a lot happen since you, um, arrived, here and I think maybe it would be best if you get some rest and recuperate a bit before we really start digging into existentialist discussions, you know?” 

“It is pretty late.” Miss Tara replied. 

“Way late. It’s so late it’s early. Not even all that early, to be honest. I really think we should just all get some rest and then we can start with the research in the morning if you decide that’s still what you want to do. Maybe even see if we can find out more about what happened to your mother after your… disappearance.”

He conceded that she may have a valid point. Mother did occasionally chide him, saying that he tended to get rather obsessed when in pursuit of a subject. 

“Perhaps you are right. I should not be keeping you from your chambers. Though, I don’t suppose you have any of those ‘Watcher’s Diaries’ here that the others mentioned?” He asked. A spot of reading would help him to relax his mind before retiring.

“No, not here. Though, I do have some scanned…”

“Scanned?” What could that possibly mean?

“Oh, we’ll have to introduce you to computers and the internet tomorrow! It’s like having a whole library at your fingertips!” Miss Willow seemed rather exuberant suddenly.

“Will, I think it best if we took things one step at a time. It’s a lot to take in.” Miss Tara once again seemed the voice of order and reason. 

“You’re right. Of course. One step at a time. That’s why she’s boss.” Miss Willow pointed to Miss Willow with a rather, entertaining, smile. “We’ll see you in the morning, William?”

“But not too early,” Miss Tara added with a rather conspiratorial looking grin.

“Definitely not too early,” Miss Willow replied, returning a look that he could only describe as lascivious. 

Feeling rather intrusive given their exchange, he decided perhaps he should retire for the night and turned to remove himself to the adjacent rooms. All of them had given him quite a lot to contemplate. Each person seemed to have a rather unique view of him, and he was having quite the difficulty trying to form some sort of cohesive portrait of himself. On one hand, he seemed a caring and protective guardian, a devoted companion, and lover, enduring torture and risking his own life for her and Miss Dawn, devastated by the loss of his true love and dedicated to his charge as guardian of her sister, elated by her return to life, and fighting by her side against even his own kind. On the other hand, he seemed to be the very personification of evil, eating children, pillaging, destroying, and philandering, murdering countless people everywhere he went, dispossessed of his human soul and trying every day to find a new way to kill the very woman to whom he’d given his heart.

As he proceeded through the dining room, its table covered in a variety of papers, plasters, and forgotten drinks, the lid of a curious object on the table suddenly lifted, a bright light emanating from the object in question. He glanced around, curious if anyone else had noted the strange occurrence, but he found no one else in the room. Although he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but be drawn to the strange thing, which on closer inspection appeared to be a machine of some sort. Part of it appeared similar to the images he’d seen of the recently invented typewriter. The other part was quite unlike anything he’d ever seen. It appeared to be some sort of journal detailing characteristics of demons, although how one would go about reading the journal was a mystery. 

As if reading his mind, the demon treatise disappeared, and writing began appearing on the screen, instructing him to use the arrows, with a drawing of where they were located, to turn the pages of an “entry.” Then, the writing disappeared, and in its place, a myriad of images and words passed swiftly in front of him. Again, glancing around to see who or what could be causing this machine to act in such a way, he found no one. 

He turned back to the machine once again, trying to see if the arrows would perhaps stop or slow the progress of images and words. As quickly as it had started the images stopped. It seemed fortune was beginning to smile on him, and he finally might be able to find out exactly who or what he had become. 

Without further preamble, he poised a finger once again over an arrow and dove into reading what he hoped would be a most revealing compendium of information, “Lydia Chalmer’s Thesis on William the Bloody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested and who have way too much time on their hands, the referenced thesis can be located here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12954411


End file.
